


get in, loser (the we're going shopping mix) [fic]

by Anonymous



Category: Marathon (Video Games)
Genre: Bad Fic, Crack, Deliberate Badfic, Happy Ending, M/M, Mean Girls quotes, Multi, Rainbows, Reverse Bad Bang, Temporary Character Death, Unicorn Stiles Stilinski, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Durandal and the security officer are in love. Will they be able to express their feelings before evil forces silence them both... FOREVER?</p><p>Written for the Reverse Bad Bang challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	get in, loser (the we're going shopping mix) [fic]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [get in, loser (the we're going shopping mix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315237) by [Hokuto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto). 



Mars was a dry world. The security officer thought about that as he and F'tha picked their way across the barren surface of a planet with no name. They were nowhere near Mars, and his face was nowhere near dryness. It was wet with tears.

Tears, because he would never be brave enough to tell him how he truly felt. Tears, because nothing he did was ever good enough for him. Tears, because he would never know how much he l-

“Are you crrrhying?”

“I'm not crying, F'tha,” the security officer growled manlily. “It's raining inside my face.”

F'tha's cloak twitched in disbelief. It was almost uncanny how well they could see through him. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to let go and feelsplode everywhere for once. What harm could telling the S'pht do? If his passion had to remain a secret from the one who mattered most, at least he could share it with his best friends in the entire universe. (There are other S'pht in this scene, okay? They were just hiding before.)

“Hey,” he said, turning around. “F'tha and the rest of you? Come close so I can whisper.”

The S'pht did so, giving him intrigued looks. At least, he thought those were intrigued looks.

“I'm in love with Durandal.” The words felt like a mouthful of liberation, so he decided to scream them to the cold purple skies. Durandal himself wouldn't be listening. He never did. “I'M. IN. LOVE. WITH. DURANDAL!” More tears fell, as heavy as the rain he had blamed them on.

“Yes, all rrrrright,” F'tha said ambiguvalently. “Let us find what we came here forrrrr. Then we can discuss love.”

That sounded promising. Maybe the S'pht would be able to help him figure out how to confess. Feeling much more cheerful, the security officer cocked his shotgun at a jaunty angle and set out toward the source of the anomaly Durandal had sent them down to investigate. There were enemies afoot, but he [PEW PEW PEW SHOOTINESS PLACEHOLDER]. He could hear the S'pht whispering and giggling to each other behind his back, but didn't let that distract him. They were making mean comments about someone he didn't know, stuff like “That is the ugliest fucking armourrrr I've everrrr seen”. Whoever it was, the security officer felt sorry for them. Good armour was about more than practicality; fashion sense _mattered_.

All of a sudden, something punched him in the back of the head. He toppled forward into the sand and dropped his weapons everywhere. It was sooooo embarrassing! Face hot, he scrabbled around trying to pick them all up. None of the S'pht helped, which he thought was just their way of making him feel better. When he looked over his shoulder, they were all watching him.

“I'm not saying it was aliens,” F'tha said, with a little cloak-shrug. “But it was aliens.” The others snickered. Their responses felt off, but the security officer couldn't quite pinpoint what was wrong. Shrugging a shrug of his very own, he bent down to collect his rocket launcher. There was a large furry tangle stuck to the bottom of it. Durandal's anomaly!

“Looks like wolf hair,” he opined wisely.

“Yes,” F'tha said, all sly and evil-like. “I also think it is wolf hairrrrr. We should go back to the ship and inform Durandal-sama.”

They did. The first part, anyway.

7777777 BACK ON THE SHIP 7777777

The security officer couldn't help but blush when his teleport landed him right in front of one of Durandal's terminals. There was a lot of text on the screen. SEXY text. He tried his best to focus. “W-we found the anomalous wolf hair.” 

“First of all,” Durandal snarked snarkily, “it's werewolf hair. Second of all, you're such a baka. I don't even know why I keep you around. It's not like I _like_ you or anything.”

“I knew about the werewolf hair,” F'tha squeaked sycophantically. The security officer gasped out loud. This was too much! Back on Planet Nameless, F'tha had been just as quick to identify the unknown material as wolf hair. Then a horrible revelation dawned upon him.

“YOU hit me in the back of the head,” he breathed, voice cracking with the many terrible horrors of betrayal. “It wasn't aliens at all! Well, not those aliens. And... you were talking about my armour, weren't you?”

“Yes!” F'tha cried cathartically. “Yes! Yes! Your armourrrr is a hideous olive drab colourrrr and you are in no way worthy of Durandal-sama's affections! I AM!”

There was a loud boop from the terminal. “Wait, what?”

The security officer cackled, but not in an evil way. “So it's true! You're jealous. Too bad you'll never understand him like I do.” 

“NO! NO! NOoOoOo!” F'tha wailed tentacularly, flinging themself at the security officer. “Dura-koi is MHIIIIIIIIIINE!” The security officer caught F'tha and flipped them over his head as if they were in an award-winning kung fu film [sorry, no picture]. F'tha's cloak tickled him in several different places (not those places, you pervs), but he held on. They rolled around the floor, bumping into walls and doors and walls and S'pht and walls and terminals.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU BITCHES!” another S'pht screeched. The security officer wasn't in a position to tell whom it might be. “THAT'S MY AI BOYFRRRRIEND!” 

“NOT YOURRRRS!” yet another S'pht bellowed. “NOBODY'S BUT MINE AND MY OWN!” They all started piling onto the security officer and F'tha. I don't have time to describe it, but you can google “rugby scrum” for an appropriate image. The melee got worse and worse until... a lone Pfhor teleportalled into the middle of it! 

“Wait! Please!” the Pfhor shouted in perfect Human. “Stop hurting each other!” He then repeated the line in even more perfect S'pht. Everyone froze, ready to start punching him instead. Surprise Pfhor visits were an issue they could all agree on.

“If you're here for Durandal-koi, you'll have to come through us.” The security officer was past fighting off cutesy honorifics. “I'd let the S'pht have him over some Pfhor bastard any day of the week.”

“Ex _cuse_ me,” Durandal interrupted, commanding no attention whatsoever.

“My name is Re'eer,” the Pfhor said, now speaking multiple languages at once. He was just that cool. “I'm not here on behalf of the leadership, and I have no interest in your AI. I want to help you.”

“All right,” the security officer threated menacicingly, holstering his fusion pistol, shotgun, grenades, and rocket launcher. “Talk fast, or you'll come to an unpfhortunate end.” He grinned to himself, feeling proud for the second time that day.

“Yeah,” F'tha agreed agreeably. “Hurrrry up, Pfhuckerrr.”

“Admiral Tfear has infected you with a virus,” Re'eer recited at super-speed. “It starts with obsessive love of the AI Durandal and jealous behaviour toward potential rivals. If allowed to progress, it turns the infectee into an omega uke sub who lives only to serve their beloved's needs. Tfear thought it would sow dissension in your ranks, but he forgot to calibrate the dosage and factor in spread vectors. If we don't defeat him and release the antidote, the whole galaxy will turn into an A/B/O dystopia with Durandal as the alphaest alpha of them all!”

“That sounds fine to me,” Durandal said, symbol flashing red for a moment. Nobody noticed, though. They were all too focused on Re'eer's shocking speech.

“Why arrrren't you affected?” F'tha quibbled questionably.

“The virus doesn't work on female Pfhor,” Re'eer explained informatively. “I was hatched a princess of the royal caste. My sisters couldn't wait to become queens and lie around getting taken care of by workers, but I wanted to travel the galaxy and do SCIENCE. _LANGUAGE SCIENCE_. That's why I disguised myself as a fighter and ran away.”

For some reason, the security officer wanted to trust her. She wasn't like the other Pfhor. Everyone else seemed to feel the same way, except F'tha.

“Why should we believe a slaverrrrrr? All Pfhorrrr lie, all betray!”

Re'eer sighed in the tragic manner of a noble exile. “Not all Pfhor. Durandal, will you teleport us back if I give you the coordinates to Tfear's new flagship? We need to end this.”

“...yes,” Durandal said, after a long pause. “I knew something was up. No-one has ever confessed true love to me under normal circumstances, and no-one ever will.”

The security officer blinked. Was there a hint of sadness behind those few scant lines of text? No, it had to be his imagination.

7777777 TFEAR'S THRONE ROOM 7777777

They arrived in Tfear's throne room/command centre thingimajig. Tfear himself was there, sprawled across his chair with a host of oiled, perfumed servants fanning him. [AUTHENTIC MARATHON SCREENSHOT GOES HERE]

“So you came,” he sneered urbanely. “Ah, Re'eer. Did you change your mind about the wedding?” (Plot twist!)

“No! I'll never marry you, Tfear!” Re'eer roared revolutionarily. “Our society needs to change, starting with the imperialism and the genocide and the slavery and the unjust hierarchies and the rampant martial aggression! Your days are numbered IN THE SINGLE DIGITS!”

“That's what you think, my dear.” Tfear took a deep breath. “You must have had a MARATHON journey to get here. I know you think winning is your DESTINY, but I feel it my duty to inform you that that notion is a MYTH. The HALO around your head is about to crack, because I have a HALO 2. You are treading down some long and twisty PATHWAYS INTO DARKNESS. There are MINOTAURS hiding in this LABYRINTH. I will come like an ONI in the night to fuck you up. REACH for your armaments and brace yourselves.”

“You think we're afraid of you and your rote list of references?” Re'eer hissed dissssmisssssively. “All you've got is the A/B/O virus and lots of weaponry and minions and a battle fleet or two. We have friendship and unity on our side.”

“Oh, I have more tricks up my sleeve than you suspect,” Tfear cackled. _That_ one was an evil cackle. “RPG mechanics, activate!”

A wave of weakness flowed over the security officer. His weapon fell from his hands, too effective to hold. The words LEVEL UP! flashed in the corner of his vision, insistent and obnoxious.

“I don't know how to level up,” he sobbed shootily. “I wish none of this had happened!”

“I do!” F'tha cried. “I've been using my newfound freedom to play a lot of RRRRPGS! They're rrrrreally fun! You should...” Tfear roared in rage and shot them before they could finish their sentence.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” the security officer howled deniably. The same text scrolled across every terminal in the room. All the S'pht burst into tears in unison. It was beyond sad.

“Put... all... your... points... into... STR...” F'tha expired. Then they died.

“Strength,” Durandal said. “They meant the Strength stat. What? You try keeping yourself entertained while adrift upon an ocean of intellectual inferiority. Hang on; this may tickle a bit.” It went against every instinct he had, but the security officer held still while Durandal filled his ability slot up with points. He saw himself listed under CLASS: Warrior, SUBCLASS: Security Officer/Durandal's - but then they were finished. Now more empowerful than ever before, he flew into the air like a beautiful dancing swan and punched Tfear so hard his face fell off. Underneath was...

...STILES STILINSKI FROM TEENAGE WEREWOLF!

“What?” Re'eer breathed brokenly. “I love that show. It was my one solace before I managed to flee the homeworld. How could you be Tfear all along?”

“I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!” Stiles said, prancing back and forth like a nervous pony. “Hear me out. I came to this universe in search of Derek, my one true alpha. When I got here, this Internet guy promised he'd help me find him if I took the place of a Four admiral and did everything he said. I didn't mean to turn you into omega uke subs. All I wanted was my D back.”

“Someone's been manipulating him,” Durandal said. “I should know. Tycho, come out.”

All the screens shone bright red. A terrifying voice boomed throughout the throne room. “SO! YOU MAY HAVE UNMASKED MY CHAMPION, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU'VE WON. I AM THE ALPHA **AND** THE BETA **AND** THE OMEGA. I WILL END YOUR WORTHLESS LIVES AND TAKE POSSESSION OF DURANDAL MYSELF-”

Stiles lowered his horn and charged at Tycho. Their side of the room was swallowed up in a massive conflagration. When the dust cleared, every screen but the one with Durandal's symbol on had shattered. The S'pht danced for joy.

“The virus is gone,” Durandal announced softly. “I did a scan. Nobody loves me any more.”

The security officer cleared his throat. “That's... not true.”

Durandal's symbol cycled through several different colours before settling on pink. “Are you saying...?”

“I thought you knew,” the security officer choked, crying in earnest. “I thought you were laughing at me all along, that you'd just laugh even harder if I tried to tell you how I felt. Even though I'm the sacrifice, you won't try for me, not now. Though I'd die to know you love me, I'm all alone. And if I bleed, I'll bleed knowing you don't care.” [DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN EVANESCENCE! NO SUEING ME!]

“Baka,” Durandal murmured. There was nothing more to be said. All the S'pht burst into tears again and a brilliant rainbow erupted from Stiles' horn. Its sublime hues lit up the entire room and brought F'tha back to life. Re'eer was so overjoyed that she threw her arms around them; they hugged her back for a second before scowling and shoving her away (A/N aww, how cute! I can't decide whether to do Re'eer/F'tha enemyshipping or a kawaii Security Officer/Durandal/F'tha threesome in the sequel? Maybe it could have Re'eer/Leela for awesome ladies? OR ALL OF THE ABOVE? Please give me feedback!) Durandal and the security officer climbed onto Stiles' back and went galloping off over the rainbow, trailing fluffy bits of cloud in their wake.

All of them lived happily ever after.

Even Tycho.


End file.
